


The Shadow Dance

by cecania



Series: The Lowlander [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avvar AU, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 04:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4290999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cecania/pseuds/cecania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The second new moon of spring has come to Sky-Bear Hold and the Thane is not the only one who wants to dance.</p><p>Tired of skulking in the shadows and sneaking away for a free moment with the woman he loves, Branson Ar Sorcha has asked her if she would join him in the Fire Dance, to join with him before Rilla and the whole of his clan, to take his hand when he reaches for her.</p><p>But will she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadow Dance

 

            Draining his ale, Bran felt like it was going sour before it even hit his stomach. She wasn’t coming. They had talked about it, had agreed that they would do this, and she wasn’t here. His gaze flicked up to the flames and, more importantly, the couple slowly dancing together before he quickly looked away. There was nothing to be ashamed of at being aroused from the fire dance, but he didn’t like the fact that it was his brother dancing right now and he was still feeling flushed.

            Of course, Cullen wasn’t holding anything back as he staked his claim on Elora and everyone knew it. No one else was dancing, it was only their Thane and the Lowlander that was soon to be an Avvar. Everyone around that bonfire had seen him strip the vest from his shoulders, had seen him put it at her feet. Everyone had known what he was about. Everyone except Elora. She wouldn’t know what the significance of it was and even though Branson had seen Rosie whispering to her, she wouldn’t have told her about it for fear of her not taking Cullen’s hand. They could settle that matter in the morning because she was definitely leaving the fire with his brother.

            “Slow down, Bran,” Mia whispered from the other side of Cullen’s throne as he reached for another tankard.

            He hesitated, remembering the god awful morning after the last fire dance last year. He’d drank far too much and had been ready to die as he’d lugged himself out of bed to join the hunting party. He had survived but he didn’t really want to repeat the experience anytime soon. Or ever for that matter.

            Slumping back in his seat, he looked up when he heard the drum beats change and elation filled him. Cullen had lifted Elora, keeping her pressed against the length of him as he carried her out of the light of the fire. There was a brief pause where the drums were still the only noise anyone could hear before the cry went up.

            Bran didn’t hesitate to add his voice to it and he knew Mia wasn’t silent either. The whole of the clan was cheering as their Thane disappeared from sight. Cullen deserved this. After everything he had been through, his brother more than deserved this.

             _And what do you deserve?_

            He stomped on the thought. He wasn’t going to think about that right now. He was going to be happy for his brother for finally finding happiness of his own, although he was surprised it had taken Cullen so long to finally make a move on Elora. It had been clear to anyone with a pair of eyes that she was more than just his guest but he had held himself back. Bran and the girls had figured it was because she wasn’t Avvar, wouldn’t really understand what his interest in her would mean.

            Although starting with the Fire Dance was one hell of an introduction to his feelings for her.

            Branson snorted softly, watching as other people got up to start dancing. Some were still doing circle dances but more than a few had singled out partners for the night and were doing fire dances of their own. It wasn’t surprising. Nearly ten years of not dancing and then that? Cullen’s dance had everyone hot under the collar and there wasn’t going to be many people actually sleeping tonight.

            When Mia made a noise, his gaze scanned the fires and he rolled his eyes as he saw that Rosie was up off her seat as well. In the arms of a hunter, a different hunter than last time. “She’s still young, Mia,” he said quietly. “The fire dance is one of the few times she actually gets to have fun.”

            “She’s a flirt and we both know it, Bran.”

            “And Rilla is watching over her tonight. She’ll be fine. Let her enjoy herself.”

            “Speaking of enjoying themselves, I see you’re not drinking the brew tonight.”

            Shifting uncomfortably, he muttered, “No reason to.”

            “Yet you were inhaling it like water last year. What’s changed?”

            Oh, no, he wasn’t having this conversation with his mother bear older sister. It was not happening. “Nothing’s changed.”

            “Branson Ar Sorcha,” Mia said firmly. “Do not lie to me. You drank yourself into a stupor last time and now you’re telling me that it was nothing? I don’t believe you.”

            “Dear Sister, I don’t want to talk about it.”

            She fell silent for a moment. “You’re alright though?”

            He truly wasn’t but he gave her a grin. “Well enough.”

            Mia shook her head slowly, clearly not believing him. “Leo talks, you know,” she said quietly.

            Branson’s spine stiffened. He adored his nephew, as did the whole family, the whole clan really, but the little boy didn’t always think before he spoke and he was always where they didn’t want him to be. “About?”

            Brown eyes slid to him. “I think you know.”

            Bran flinched and looked away. It wasn’t something he was ashamed of, far from it. If he was ashamed, he wouldn’t have told her he was going to perform the fire dance for her. But knowing that his sister, possibly all of his family, knew made him flush.

            “That’s truly what you want, Bran?”

            “It doesn’t matter if I do,” he said lowly. “She’s not here so clearly it’s- _I’m_ -not what she wants.” Which hurt and confused him. They had agreed that tonight they would take the next step, that they wouldn’t sneak around anymore and would declare their intentions before the clan. He’d been so elated when she had agreed with him as he had whispered the words to her, her body pressed flush to his, sweat drying on their skin.

             _“If I danced for you,” he murmured, his heart clogging his throat, “would you take my hand?”_

_“In front of all of your people? All of your family and Thane?”_

_“Aye,” he breathed, having a problem speaking. How long had he loved her? He hadn’t even realised he was in love with Bethany of the Hawkes until he had seen her at the final fire dance last year. He had always been fond of her, but he hadn’t known how much until she had returned to their people, a grown woman and ready to dance. She’d left blue paint on his hands and her fingerprints on his heart with only one dance around the fire. He’d been lost to her and it had terrified him._

_But she was lying naked in his arms, one slender leg draped over his and her thigh brushing his cock enough for it to twitch, wanting to be inside her again. Her breasts were soft weights against his chest, her nipples still tight from his mouth and tongue. One of her hands was pressed to his chest, right over his rapidly beating heart, and her dark wealth of hair was spread across his skin. He hadn’t realised how much he had wanted her here, like this with him, until he had had it. Now he never wanted it to end._

_He wanted to protest when she pushed herself up so she could see his face. There was only the flickering light of the candles they had set up in the small cave they had made their own, but it was more than enough to see her face. “Beth?”_

_“That’s truly what you want? To fire dance for me, a Chasind, before Rilla?”_

_“I want you as my own,” he said honestly, but he heard his voice shake. This wasn’t something to take lightly. Unions before Rilla were eternal, through this life and the next and whatever others they may have. They were rare because the Avvar who knew that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with only one person were few in number. Of course, those unions brought about great celebrations among their people and were treasured all the more because of the commitment they were undertaking._

_But his parents had been united before Rilla and he had always secretly wanted it. Despite the pain it had caused his father when their mother had died, he could still remember the happiness and life and love that had been in their lives before that. He wanted that with someone and he now knew that someone was Bethany._

_Her lips curved upward slightly as she slid on top of him, all warm curves and already wet sex. “If you dance for me, we won’t be able to meet anymore,” she told him, her fingers winding through his hair._

_“We can still meet,” he reminded her, “we just aren’t allowed to have sex.”_

_Her brows lifted. “You’d push the boundaries of the fire dance? Because I know I wouldn’t keep my hands off of you if we kept meeting.”_

_His cock jerked between her spread thighs, hardening swiftly at the thought of her hands on him. “You’d want to stop meeting?”_

_“No,” she said slowly, shifting back to rub her slick pussy lips against his growing erection. “But if we are to be united before Rilla, I don’t want to risk her wrath with our playing.”_

_Branson’s head tipped back into the furs spread across the floor of the cave as she coated his cock in her arousal. “Beth,” he groaned, his hands finding her hips to help her move against him._

_“So I’m asking you, Branson Ar Sorcha, if you truly want me as your Rilla blessed wife,” Bethany breathed, rolling her body against his.  “If you truly want to stand before her flames and declare your intentions and honour her rites. If you truly want to lie with me in your home from dance to sun up for three new moons and claim me as your own.”_

_“Aye,” he moaned, bucking up against her, rutting between her spread thighs. “Aye, Bethany, aye, I want all of that. I want all of that with you!”_

_Her teeth raked over her lower lip and she shifted her hips so he was pushing through her sex and into her wet, tight heat. “Then dance for me,” she whispered, “and I’ll take your hand.”_

            She had made love to him after that, sealing the agreement between them with their bodies. She had promised in gentle whispers when they had parted ways that she would come to their dance, that she would be there for him to dance for, that they would have three moons left in the season and would finish their courting this year. They would be mated before Rilla and at the beginning of summer her sister would lay her hand on Bethany’s stomach to proclaim that his seed had planted deep within her womb, their child already growing inside her.

            But she wasn’t here.

            He closed his eyes, wishing he could blank his mind with alcohol or something but he had made sure that he hadn’t drank anything before she had gotten there. He hadn’t even touched the brew, wanting to wait until she was there before he put it in his belly. It was apparently a good decision on his part because he wouldn’t have wanted to spend the entire evening with an erection that would keep coming back without someone to help him sate his desires. It would be easy enough to use his hand, to try to sleep it off, but it wouldn’t be the same because he knew how soft her palm was, how warm her mouth was, how tight her cunt was as he slid inside it.

            Rubbing his hand over his face, he wanted to swear as he felt his cock twitch under his loincloth. No one would think anything of it, most men had them all through the night, but it wasn’t something he wanted if she wasn’t here. By the Lady, he ached for her. She’d already claimed all of him, wanting no one beyond her. He was hers, even without Rilla blessing their union yet.

            He looked at Mia when he felt her hand settle on his arm and gave her another smile when he saw the concern on her face. “I’m fine, Sister,” he assured her.

            She wasn’t convinced and they both knew it.  “Come with me. Rosie has taken a partner and we aren’t required to stay anymore.”

            Branson shook his head. “One of us should remain until midnight. Cullen isn’t here to do it so one of us should stay.”

            “Branson, that is over an hour away and there is no point in you sitting here, alone, stewing in whatever is going on in your head. Come with me.”

            “Mia-“

            “I wasn’t asking, Branson.”

            He looked at her for a moment before sighing. Because Cullen was Thane, it was easy to forget sometimes that their brother wasn’t the eldest. But Mia had no issues reminding them, usually when she was putting her foot down about something. It shouldn’t make him feel like his five year old nephew surely did when he was on the other end of that stare, but it did. His gaze flicked to the people around the flames, but no one was looking at them and Beth wasn’t there. Rosie and Cullen had claimed their partners for the night and neither he nor Mia was going to be taking anyone. She was right.

            Pushing out of his chair, he held out his hand to her. He waited as she gathered her shawl around her as she rose from her seat. When her hand slipped into the crook of his arm, he led her down from the dais.

            “Not dancing tonight, Bran?”

            He paused with his sister to look at the speaker. “Not tonight, Murron,” he said quietly.

            “But you always dance,” she said with a pout. “And you haven’t done a single one tonight.”

            He gave her apologetic smile. “I’m only one man, Murron. I can’t dance every time and there’s plenty of others who would be more than willing to dance with you.”

            “But not you?”

            “Murron,” Mia said, stepping in, “you know the rules. If Branson doesn’t want to dance with you, you can’t force him to. Unless you’d like to try because I’m sure our Thane will have more than a few choice words for you if I have to pull him away from Elora to deal with you right now.”

            Murron was still pouting, completely in sulk mode and maybe at one time her plump lower lip would have enticed him. He knew he’d liked those plump lips when they’d been wrapped around his cock, but now…now he didn’t want them anywhere near any part of him.

            “I was just asking, Mia.”

            “You’ve asked, he’s answered, we’re leaving,” Mia said, pulling Branson with her.

            “Thank you,” he murmured when they were out of the fire’s light.

            “You can simply say no to them, Bran. They’re adults and it won’t hurt their feelings. And if it does,” she said when he went to respond, “you don’t want anything to do with them anyways. Rilla protects her males just as much as her females on these nights and coercing someone into a dance because you know they have a hard time saying no to anyone is not acceptable.”

            “I know,” Branson sighed. “I know. I just….”

            “You’re a people pleaser. You’ve always been that way and none of us want to change. But nor do we want to see you taken advantage of because of it. If you don’t want to dance because you’ve chosen the woman you want for the fire dance, no one should be trying to change your mind, no matter how you acted at previous new moons.”

            He leaned over and gently kissed the top of her head. “I know, Mia,” he murmured.

            She sighed deeply and leaned into him. “I’m happy for you,” she said after a moment. “I’m glad you’ve found someone to give your heart to.”

            “Can’t give it if she isn’t here,” he muttered.

            “She isn’t a fickle person, Bran. If she isn’t here, there’s surely a good reason.”

            “How many know?” he demanded quietly. “How many has Leo told?”

            Mia chuckled and it made his heart ache as he realised that it sounded exactly like their mother’s. He missed her. It didn’t matter if Mia took after Sorcha more than anyone else, in looks and mannerisms, she wasn’t their mother and it was a stark reminder of why she wasn’t there anymore. “Not many,” she admitted, “especially when I told him it was a secret. But I think Rosie knows and quite possibly Elora.”

            “Elora?” he said in surprise.

            “I’m not sure about her though.”

            “Why would he tell Elora?”

            “Because he’s very much enamoured with her and is bound and determined to get her to like him. That means telling her secrets and sharing everything about him with her.”

            Great. If Elora knew, did that mean Cullen knew as well? Or would she keep it to herself? She didn’t seem like the type to talk about other people’s business but he couldn’t be sure about that.

            “Come inside, Bran,” Mia murmured. “Sit for a while with me.”

            “Mia, I want to go home,” he sighed. “I’m not going to be very good company right now.”

            A huffing sigh left her and she caught either side of his face to pull him down. Gently kissing his forehead, she murmured, “We love you, Bran. Don’t forget that.”

            His eyes closed for a second. “I know, Mia. I love you as well.”

            She gave him a small smile, gently stroking his cheeks before she let her hands fall. “I’m sending Leo to fetch Cullen tomorrow morning,” she told him as she laid her hand against the door of her home. “They’ll probably come for you as well while I take care of Rosie and Elora.”

            ”You’re too kind to us, Mia.”

            “You’re my family. We take care of each other.”

            That they did and no one did it more or better than her. “Give Leo a kiss for me,” he murmured, taking a step back, “and I’ll see you on the morrow.”

            She nodded and he waited until she was inside before moving off.

            His steps were slow as he wound through the empty village toward his home. He’d only moved out of their family home last summer, claiming a place for himself which usually signified the fact that he was ready to take a woman as his wife. Most of the clan had expected him to raid another clan for a bride, to refresh their blood with a new woman as their people always had. His father had found a bride within their clan, but everyone fully expected Cullen and him to look to the other clans for a woman to wed. As the years had passed, it had become fully obvious that Cullen had no intentions of doing that so their gazes had turned to him, expecting him to do it once he had claimed his own home.

            But he had done it because he hadn’t wanted to live with Rosie and Mia anymore. More than that, living in the home his parents had built for each other had eaten at him every day that both of them had been gone. It was a good home to raise Leo in, but he hadn’t been able to handle walking into the common area and not seeing his father with his feet on the table and his mother scolding him from the fireside. He’d needed to start fresh and the entire clan had started giving him looks, just waiting for him to bring a woman into his home.

            Now he had a woman that he wanted to build that home with and she hadn’t come to the fire dance.

            “Damn it, Bethany,” he muttered, shoving his hand through his thick curls. “Where are you?”

            Most likely down the mountain with her tribe, celebrating their own version of the fire dance. While the Avvar stripped down to their skin and only wore paints if they were in the midst of courting, the Chasind always painted that bare skin with the colours of their tribe, swirls and streaks of vivid paints designed to entrap the eye and entrance the senses. The Chasind always joined them at the first new moon of the year, awash in those colours that seemed to absorb the firelight and glow on their own. The blending and smearing of those colours as partners danced before the fire and in the shadows was part of their own mating rituals and he had wanted Bethany’s colours on his skin, had wanted them all over his body so that everyone could see that he was hers.

            But he should have remembered that Bethany rarely came up the mountain on her own. She came to assist her sister when there were healings that needed to be done, but she rarely came by herself. And if she had tried to come up alone tonight, her twin would have surely come with her or stopped her. Carver took his sisters’ safety very seriously and was almost as much as a deterrent as Hawke was. Although no one was as terrifying as Hawke could be and Bran wasn’t scared of Carver.

            Slipping into his home, the door was barely closed before he was jerking the tie of his loincloth off and wrapping his hand around his erection. It had barely subsided since the fire and thinking about Bethany wearing nothing but a loose skirt and that bloody paint on her skin had brought it back completely. Growling low in his throat, he braced his legs as he leaned against the door and stroked himself. He could hear the drums from the main courtyard still and it only made him harder. What would it have been like to have Bethany pressed against him, his erection grinding against her soft belly as they danced? To know that as soon as they finished dancing, that as soon as she was ready, she would take his hand and lead him from the fires? To know that once they were in the dark that he would sink into the wet heat of her body and feel her come around him all night while he pleasured her before Rilla?

            He groaned deeply, rubbing against the foreskin pulled back from the head and thinking about how Bethany liked to lick him there. She would tease the sensitive skin until his legs were shaking and he was begging for her to let him come. She had such control over him it was almost shaming, but she never took advantage of him, was gentle and kind with him while he writhed and bucked in the throes of his orgasm. She let him paint her chest in his seed when she used her hands and mouth on him, streaking her pale skin in white lines and driving him to his knees as she dipped her fingers in them to bring them to her mouth.

            His ass clenched as he thrust into his hand and the other shot out to grasp the wall as best as he could. She would lick her palms, coating them in saliva before she wrapped them around his cock. Up and down, twisting around the head, squeezing the base, pushing him up as she sucked his balls into her mouth, humming around them and making him come on his stomach at the feeling of it. She would make her fingers icy one moment, making his skin shiver and tighten before warming them and making him burn. Her nails would knead at his thighs, his abdomen, his ass while she had him in her mouth. Her lips were always soft around his cock, leaving red marks as sometimes she rouged her mouth before she took him. She’d laughed the first time he’d muttered about how hard it was to get them off and teased that it shouldn’t matter if no one else was seeing his cock but her. He’d realised it was her subtle way of marking him as her own, something only they would know about. It had certainly made him think about her every time he had stripped and seen them on himself.

            Or the scratches she left on his shoulders and back as he drove into her. She’d offered to heal them after one day when she had seen them but he hadn’t wanted her to. He liked feeling them in his skin, liked knowing that he had pushed the sweet and mild tempered Bethany beyond her usual self enough to mark him like that. He’d worn them proudly, knowing he had pleased her greatly. The bite and love marks she’d left on his neck and chest he’d barely bothered to hide, beyond happy that she was further marking him as hers.

            His free hand came down to cup his balls, fondling them firmly, his touch more sure than hers was. She was always careful not to hurt him when she handled him no matter how much he told her that it was fine. But she wasn’t here and he needed to come. Fire brew or not, the drums and dancers were more than enough to get a man’s blood pumping.

            And his was pounding through his veins. His heels scraped against the floor as his sac tightened. It wouldn’t take much more to make him come, the first time for most men on this night usually came fast and hard. A result of the brew and the dance and pleasuring the woman that had chosen them. Once the drums fell silent, the hold would be filled with the guttural moans of the men and the pleased cries of the women. It would continue all through the night until maybe an hour before sunrise or possibly right until the sun started to paint the Lady with her light. Some couples took as much as the night would give them and spent those last few hours before rising passed out in each other’s arms.

            Branson knew that he would spend each hour of darkness worshipping every inch of Bethany like the goddess she was. He would spare nothing when it came to her, would use all of him to make sure she was sated and limp by the time the sun rose. He would make sure that she would barely be able to move when he slipped from their bed to meet the day with the rest of the hold’s men. He wanted sleepy kisses from her as he left her, all pleased sighs and aching muscles from being well loved.

            A harsh growl left him as he felt his cock jerk against his palm before he was coming. His teeth clenched as he pushed against his hand, bucking between it and the door. He knew he was spilling on the floor, knew that he would have to clean it up before the morning, but he didn’t care. What he did care about was the fact that he wasn’t coming with her, that Bethany wasn’t here wringing every last drop from him with her mouth or her pussy.

            His breath caught and he whimpered at the thought of coming inside her, of filling her with his seed to the point where she would carry his child. It wouldn’t have happened tonight but she wanted him to court her and it would have happened. He would have stayed in her all through the night, praying to Rilla for his seed to catch and for her to bless them both with a child.

            But it wouldn’t happen if she didn’t come to the dance.

            His hands fell limply from him as he slid down the door to slump on the floor. By the Mountain Father, he was on fire for her and she was down the mountain. He wouldn’t even be able to leave now and dance for her. By the time he got there, the fires would be banked, everyone taking to their beds for the next dance they were doing. They’d lost a moon and if she wanted him to court her, they wouldn’t be able to finish it until the next year. Which meant a full year of not being able to be inside her, to not be able to feel her coming around him while he fucked her.

            “Why?” he whispered weakly but the shadows of his home had no answers. If anything they just got deeper, the fire in the centre of the room only weakly burning. He had banked it before joining the others, letting it smoulder so that they would have just enough light when he brought Bethany back here. He loved watching the tiny flames and shadows flicker over her skin. He had chased the light with his mouth across her body, making her giggle and sigh as he had found places she hadn’t known she’d liked to be touched. She was beautiful no matter what, but when she was wearing only the light of a fire she was absolutely divine to him.

            His head thumped back against the door and he sighed deeply. He had been so ready to dance for her, so ready to join with her in a way he had never wanted to before. He’d had women at the fire dance, no adult male of the hold hadn’t, but he knew it would be different with her. He’d be making love to the keeper of his heart under the graces and blessings of Rilla herself.

            When he’d been young, pouting about the fact that Cullen was now old enough for the fire dance and he still had years to wait, his father had taken him aside to tell him that one day his time would come. That one day he would dance for a woman that was more than just that. That he would look across the fire and know that she was the one he would want to dance with. But that no man knew on their first dance, that it would take a while and that he had to be patient. The gods looked after them and he would be taken care of. When it was finally his turn to dance, he would be welcomed with open arms and would learn how to dance with a woman in the shadows.

            Of course his mother had swatted the back of Teodoir’s head because Branson was only eleven, still too young for a talk like that. He’d been tucked back into bed with a kiss and ruffle of his curls, but he’d heard the low husky laughs shared between his parents as they had drawn the curtain across the place their children had slept in. He had heard the low growl rumble out of his father at something his mother had said, heard the soft squeal she had made at whatever his father had done in response.

            Mia had told him, after they were both gone, that their father had danced every first new moon of the spring for their mother. It hadn’t mattered that they were mated for life and had four children. He renewed his promise to her every spring, proudly putting their love on display before the whole of the tribe and the gods themselves. And that the fires roared as the gods celebrated their augur and master of the hunt coming together before Rilla’s flames. They had been blessed by the gods and wanted the exact same thing for their children.

            He’d had it so close, it had been almost within his hands, but she hadn’t come to him. Had she been scared that the clan wouldn’t accept her there without her sister being in attendance as well? He knew there were still some in the clan who resented the presence of the Chasind at the bottom of their mountain despite all the good the Hawkes had down for them. But they were a stubborn people who didn’t take well to change, no matter if it was for the best.

            Rubbing his hands over his face, Branson sighed deeply. He needed to move from the door, clean up the mess he had made and go to bed for the night. There was no point in staying awake and making himself sick with trying to figure out why Bethany wasn’t there. Groping for the loincloth he had just removed, he used it to swipe at the floor stones. He wasn’t sure that he had gotten all of it and he didn’t feel like stoking the fire to find out.

            He pushed himself off the floor, muscles still a little weak. Tossing the clothing toward a corner, he stumbled across the main room toward his bed. He had to brace himself against the wall separating his sleeping space from the rest of the house and take a deep breath. Hakkon give him strength, he was going to need to come again before the night was out. He probably wasn’t going to get much sleep tonight. Not with the beat of the drums echoing in his pulse.

            Branson collapsed onto his bed, rolling onto his back before realising that was a bad idea. The furs on his bed tickled his skin, made him think of the light touches Bethany liked to sweep over his body when they were lying together in the quiet moments. Was everything going to continually remind her of him? Was this what it was like to love someone with your heart and soul? Was this what it felt like when you were going to spend the rest of your life without that person?

            “Fuck,” he growled, pushing his hands into his eyes. No, he wasn’t going to think about it. There would be a hunt tomorrow, just like there always was after a fire dance to replenish what had been eaten. After it was over, he would slip away before they returned to the hold and find Bethany. He would talk to her tomorrow and get an answer. It might not be an answer he wanted, but he needed an answer.

            Korth’s teeth, what would he do if she had changed her mind? What would he do if she had had second thoughts? What would he do if she didn’t want him anymore?

            The urge to go down the mountain grew in him. He knew where Bethany made her home with her siblings, he could sneak down and speak with her tonight. But what would he do if he found her with someone else?

            No. Bethany wouldn’t do that, she wasn’t that type of person. She was sweet and caring and kind and loving and she loved him. He knew she did. Something must have happened, something must have-

            He pushed himself onto his forearms when he heard his door open quietly. No one was allowed to come into someone else’s home if they hadn’t danced before the fire. The only exception was if they were married, only then were you allowed to share someone’s bed without dancing. Otherwise, you returned to your own home. “Who’s there?” he demanded, rolling to the edge of the bed and reaching under it for the sword he kept there. Violence was forbidden tonight, he knew that better than most, but he would defend himself against any that came for him.

            The door closed and he heard soft steps against the stone. It was a woman. Murron? Had she not given up and was choosing desperation over the gods?

            His stomach turned at the thought of being with her and he knew he would refuse her. If he had to, he’d return to Mia’s home and spend the night there to keep the woman away from him. The wall kept him from seeing into the common area of his home but he heard her stoke the fire, the logs snapping as the fire licked at them. Fuck.

            Silently getting to his feet, he quietly stalked to the edge of the wall before he froze as he saw the figure crouched on the other side of the fire. The flames were lighting up her face as she stared across the room at him and his sword clanged to the floor as it slid from numb fingers. “Beth?” he whispered, almost unwilling to hope.

            She watched him for a moment longer before she pushed to her feet. There was a thick fur covering her, nearly as black as her hair, perfectly suited to hiding in the dark. But he could see her legs were bare underneath it. If she wore a skirt, it was short, sitting higher than her knees. He was willing to bet that she wasn’t wearing one.

            “Beth, what are you doing here?” he croaked. They hadn’t danced at the fire, she couldn’t be here with him.

            “Carver wouldn’t let me come,” she breathed. “Said I had to stay with the tribe without Olivia here, that he had to keep an eye on me.”

            “Won’t he notice you’re missing?”

            “He’s sleeping and won’t wake up until the morrow.”

            A soft laugh left him before he shook his head. “We can’t, Beth. We haven’t danced.”

            Her fingers flicked at the fire pit, the flames rising higher in response to her magic. “We have a fire,” she murmured, “and we both know what we want.”

            “Beth,” he breathed.

            “Branson, this is between you, me, and Rilla. Not your clan, not my tribe, only us and her.”

            But the clan was supposed to witness it, was supposed to see their intentions for one another. No one would accept a private fire dance as their first one.

            “Unless you don’t want to dance for me anymore,” she whispered.

            He growled at her, the sound harsh and short. “I love you,” he said lowly, “and I want to honour you in front of the gods and my people. I want to dance for you, only you.”

            He saw her lower lip wobble before a pale hand reached up from under the fur to tug at the tie keeping it closed.

            Branson nearly swallowed his tongue as the cloak fell to the floor and he was greeted by the sight of nothing but painted skin. She wasn’t wearing anything but paint. There were white swirls around and on her breasts, the tips curling around her nipples. Whorls spread across her stomach and thighs, brushing against the dark curls between her legs. The white was glowing in the firelight, the blue shimmering. She was truly a goddess and he was nothing but a poor fool who could do nothing but worship at her feet.

            “Bran?”

            He pushed away from the wall, stepping into the firelight and he heard her gasp as she saw that he was as naked as she was. And aroused once again. But how could he not be at the sight of her? He saw her swallow hard as her eyes darted over him as he walked toward the fire, his cock jerking whenever her gaze dipped to it. She wanted him to dance for her?

            Her breath caught audibly when he pivoted on one foot before he was close to her. The drums were still playing and even though they were faint he could still hear them. He moved with them as he worked his way around the fire, watching as Bethany’s dark eyes darted all over him, quickly jerking up every time they fell to his erection. He couldn’t stop his savage smile at the way she licked her lips, the white whorls on her face glowing even more as she surely blushed under them.

            Winding around her, his eyes closed as he leaned in close enough to catch the waft of cinnamon from her hair but he moved on quickly as she spun to try to face him. She was following him as he moved around her, twisting so she wouldn’t lose sight of him.

            He was close enough to the fire that he could feel the sweat rolling down his skin and not only on his. He could see it beading on hers and making tracks through the paint. He had known that it would come off easily, she had left his hands covered in the stuff when they had danced, but he hadn’t realised that her sweat alone would do it. It would easily transfer to his skin as soon as he touched her.

            A low growl left him at the thought and he heard her gasp, saw her thighs shift together. She would be wet for him, he knew it. As soon as his fingers slid between her legs, her arousal would coat them. He needed to feet it, needed it now. His hand reached out, reached for her as smoothly as if it was one of the dance moves and her palm immediately smacked into his. He pulled her tight to him, rumbling harshly as his cock was caught between them, pressed tightly between their stomachs. He had to lock his knees when she squirmed again, rubbing against him.

            “Dance with me, Beth,” he breathed, letting go of her hand to cup her ass in both of his palms.

            She rose up on her toes as he shifted them, twirling them around the fire. “Bran,” she whispered, one hand on his shoulder and the other around his neck.

            Rolling his hips against her, he listened to her gasp before his hands shifted just slightly. He spread her just enough that he could work one hand between her legs. She cried out when his fingers delved through wet flesh and teased her entrance, pushing back against him. He would have never done something like this in full view of the clan, but it was only them and Rilla. And he wanted to feel her wrapped around him, her arousal soaking his fingers and soon his cock.

            Bethany clutched at him, head falling back as he slid the tip of one finger inside her, just enough to feel her clench around him. She moaned his name as he teased her, pushing a little deeper as he spun them around the flames.

            Banding his arm around her waist, he kept her just lifted off the floor so she couldn’t push back against his hand. She wailed softly as she realised what he had done, her chin dropping down so she could stare at him with big eyes. But he didn’t put her down. He wanted to tease her, to play with her like he had every time they had come together. She writhed against him, one leg hooking around one of his and pulling her closer. He moaned his approval as he realised she was grinding her clit against him, leaving a slick patch on his thigh from her arousal.

            “Good girl,” he breathed, bracing his leg and holding her there. “Use me to make yourself come.”

            She bit her lip, arms wrapping fully around him to try to find some leverage. He wasn’t overly surprised when her other leg lifted to hook around his hip but it shifted her out of his grasp, his finger sliding out of her. He didn’t care, lifting his hand to lick the digit clean under her hazy gaze before he was cupping the back of her head. She was panting softly, lower lip plump from her teeth and begging him to kiss it. But he waited, watching hotly as she ground herself against him.

            “Were you thinking about me as you climbed the mountain?” he murmured, his voice little better than a rumble. “Were you thinking about coming up here and riding my cock?”

            A sigh shuddered out of her and she nodded frantically.

            “While you watched your people dance, were you thinking about how you were going to dance with me? Naked in my bed while I’m buried deep inside of you?”

            “Yes,” she whimpered, legs tightening around him. “Fill me.”

            “Aye, love,” he muttered. “I will.”

            “Now?”

            “No, make yourself come, let me see you come for me, my painted love. Show me your pleasure.”

            Her mouth fell open as a soft cry left her and her hips bucked against him. She was using him to pull herself along his thigh, coating his skin in her arousal and slicking a path for her to move easier against. Her fingers were kneading at his shoulders, nails scratching as they dug in. Her nipples were tight against his chest, rubbing against him with each shift of her body.

            It wasn’t long before she was moaning, pressing down against his thigh and shuddering in his arms. He could feel her legs trembling against him and a pleased hum let him. “Yes, that’s it,” he encouraged as she bucked and gasped as it only rubbed her against him more. “That’s it, come for me, Bethany.”

            She was mewling and shaking as he took the steps toward his bedroom but her gaze never left his. Her dark eyes were somehow darker, her pleasure turning the brown nearly black. She didn’t want to let go of him when he pressed her down into the furs of his bed, but he gently unwound her arms from around him, kissing her palms before letting them fall on either side of her. “Branson, come here,” she breathed when he tugged her legs away.

            “Just wait, Beth,” he murmured, kneeling on the floor in front of her. “You didn’t let me dance for you in front of the clan, let me have this.”

            “If by this you mean all of me, I’m already yours.”

            He squeezed his eyes shut and leaned his forehead against her thigh. “As I am yours,” he whispered, catching her knees and spreading her legs wide.

            “Oh, yes,” she sighed, her fingers winding into his hair as he buried his face between her legs. “Branson, yes!”

            He was already sucking on her, pulling wet folds into his mouth to run his tongue over them. He could feel her getting wetter as his lips parted and he sucked on more of her. Pushing on her legs more, he followed her as her hips lifted off the bed as he pressed her knees to it. She was wide open for him and he wasn’t going to waste a second of this.

            He grunted in approval at her sighs of his name, her fingers running through his hair as he pulled back to lap at her. His tongue trailed from her soaked entrance up to where her clit was peeking out from under its hood. He flicked his tongue against her, knowing it wasn’t what she wanted. She had told him she preferred to be sucked, preferred to have his lips wrapped around that sensitive bud and sucking on her. He would give her that, but right now he wanted more of her. He lapped at her again, parting her slick folds and lingering against them. Swirling his tongue over her, he dipped it inside of her for a moment.

            Her moan rang through the silence of his home followed swiftly by his hiss as she jerked on his hair.

            Shaking his head slightly, he tried to dislodge her grip a fraction before he shifted just enough to cover her with his mouth. She shrieked breathlessly this time and he felt her legs tense as she pushed against him. But he had her pinned and she wasn’t going anywhere. Sucking greedily at her, he pressed his tongue just under her clit, just enough to expose it more. Her hips rocked against his face as the wet sounds of him sucking rose up around them.

            His gaze flicked up when her fingers slid out of his hair and he growled his approval when he saw them cup her breasts. He watched her knead and tease the plump flesh, her fingers plucking at her pert nipples. The paint was already smearing on them, rubbed off on his chest and by her fingers so that he could see the pink buds of her nipples. He sucked harder on her, shifting his lips and tongue so he could give her more pleasure.

            He heard a moan hitch in her throat, saw her fingers squeeze her breasts tightly. She was on the edge, trembling there as she waited for him to push her over. She was inhaling quickly through her nose as she trembled on his bed and he almost froze as he realised he had Bethany of the Hawkes in his bed. He’d taken her to bed several times and she had taken him several more, but it was in their cave, not in her home or in his. She was actually in his home and he was going to lay claim to her here.

            “Bran,” Bethany whispered, her voice shaking.

            Shaking his head at himself, he closed his eyes and returned to his task. His lips moved against her as he sucked and pulled back, returning to repeat the action. His tongue circled around her clit, teasing the hood back and making wet passes over it every time his mouth was back on her.

            Her cry rang in his ears as she came, legs pushing against his hold and hips squirming under his mouth. She quickly clamped her lips together to muffle the sound as she writhed on his bed. Her hands were fisted in the furs, jerking and pulling on them as he didn’t move away from her.

            Branson followed her when she reached above her head to try to haul herself away from him, his chest bumping into the bed and his cock rubbing against the edges of the furs covering it. His desperate moan at the feeling had her bucking hard against him, hard enough that he finally pulled back from her. He licked his lips, tasting her desire on them and knowing it was coating his mouth, chin, and his cheeks. She was drenched for him, as wet and aching as he was hard and needing. His fingers flexed against her legs when she pushed again and he hoarsely said, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

            She sighed lustfully. “Did you drink the brew?” she mumbled.

            He leaned down to nuzzle against her sex, his nose rubbing her clit and his tongue slipping back to her entrance. “I don’t need it with you.”

            “That’s not what you thought last time,” she moaned, arching on the bed and thrusting her breasts into the air.

            Branson licked his lips slowly at the sight she was giving him. She was utterly magnificent and only he would ever get to see her like this. “Tell me, Bethany, where would you rather my mouth?” he breathed, his breath fanning the folds of her pussy. “Here, fucking you with my tongue until you come again? Or up there, suckling at your nipples and seeing if I can make you come from that again?”

            “It was once,” she growled. “Are you going to let it go?”

            No, he wasn’t because he was still immensely proud that she had orgasmed while his hands had been on her waist and her nipple in his mouth. She had said it was because she was so desperate for him to touch her in any way that it had just happened but he didn’t care. His cock jerked hard at the mere thought of it. “Where do you want me, Bethany?”

            “Inside me,” she pleaded.

            “Soon,” he soothed.

            She tossed her head back, dark hair blending in with the dark furs and he heard her muttering to herself. She took a deep breath before she whispered, “Suck on my breasts.”

            He practically shot up the bed, levering himself onto it and making her cry out at the sudden move. It shifted to a moan as he closed his lips around one taught peak, sucking before his mouth was fully settled. He felt her thighs slam into his as he knelt on the bed between them, his cock nestled between them and rubbing against the curls at the apex of her sex. He rutted slightly against her as he sucked, growling in the back of his throat.

            Her fingers were back in his hair or at least one hand was. The other was trailing down his body before clutching at his ass. He bucked hard against her at the action, nipping gently at her and making her jump. Soothing the bite with his tongue, he hummed as he realised the paint on her skin actually tasted pleasant. “What’s in this?” he mumbled around her, barely leaving her breast.

            She sighed as he toyed with the other, arching as much as she could under him. “Vanilla,” she whispered, moaning sharply as he pulled away from her with a wet pop. “Berries. Other things.”

            He rubbed his cheek against her breast before trailing his nose against her nipple. There wasn’t any paint left on the nub, he had licked and sucked all of it away. “Other things?” he prompted.

            She laughed throatily. “We don’t need the fire brew for a reason, Branson.”

            A low noise left him and he pushed up to look at her. “Are you telling me,” he said slowly, “that the paint you put on your skin has the same effect as the brew?”

            Bethany smiled at him and it was the most sexual thing he had seen in his life.

            Branson shuddered, licking his lips and tasting the paint on them. “Is it always like that?”

            “Only for the dances.”

            Thank the Lady. Lowering his head, he held her gaze as his tongue flicked back and forth over her other nipple.

            Her smile faltered before cracking completely as he took her into his mouth. “Oh, yes, Bran,” she moaned, tugging him closer. “Yes!”

            His eyes closed a moment after hers, to focus on the soft sighs leaving her as he suckled at her. But it was hard to focus on only that when he could feel her hips lifting, searching for his cock. She was more than ready for him and they both knew it. He didn’t leave her breast until he couldn’t taste the paint on his tongue anymore. Then he started pressing kisses down to the valley between her breasts and nuzzled against her. “Beth,” he murmured.

            “Oh,” she sighed and he felt the hand clutching his ass slide around and between them.

            His jaw clenched as she wrapped her fingers around his cock and he pushed himself up so that she could move him. He was pleased that she wasted no time in positioning him at her entrance, letting go as soon as the tip was fitted inside her. “Tell me,” he pleaded.

            “I want you,” she breathed.

            He inched a little further inside. “Tell me.”

            “I need you,” Bethany whimpered, her hips lifting as he slid deeper.

            “Tell me,” he begged, his voice breaking.

            “Take me,” she mewled.

            He moved above her, covering her mouth with hers even as he thrust forward into her. He caught her cry this time, the sound of it echoing through him. He was already working inside of her, his knees braced wide to give him more force behind his thrusts so he could get deep with every single one. Her legs wrapped around his waist, tilting her perfectly for him.

            His lips slid against hers, the wet sounds of their kiss almost as loud as him moving inside her. He knew he was kissing her desperately but she was returning it in kind. Her mouth was parted for him but he was too focused on kissing her in any way that he could, kissing her at any angle he could find. She followed him, tilting her head, angling her chin, nothing but soft and welcoming under him.

            But he could feel her tightening around him already and knew she wasn’t going to last for long. Kissing her hard for a moment, he pulled back and breathed, “Look at me, Beth.”

            She moaned deeply, shaking her head.

            It didn’t matter that he could barely see her, he still wanted this. “Beth, please.”

            Another moan but her lashes lifted enough so her gaze met his. Her brows were drawn tight over her eyes and her expression was full of nothing but pleasure and want. “Bran,” she whispered shakily.

            Rolling his hips, he rubbed against her clit on the next stroke and she squeezed him in response. He stayed buried inside of her, slowly grinding down against that spot. The hand back on his ass dug in, her nails biting into his flesh but he didn’t stop. He knew how close she was and-

            A long mewl left her as she bucked up to meet him, her breasts pressing against his chest as she tugged him down to pin her to the bedding. Words spilled from her lips, broken and foreign to him, the sounds coming from her home in the Wilds. But he didn’t stop, rubbing against her while she squeezed his cock and trembled under him. He watched her come, watched all the little emotions play out on her face, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from joining her. He didn’t care if the paint did have something in it to help him last, he didn’t want to come yet.

            “Bran,” she whimpered, tugging on his hair.

            His hips stilled with a sigh and he bowed his head to press his forehead against hers. Breathing deeply, he listened to her pant for air and mumble words gently.

            When she was breathing evenly, he was still wound tight, still buried deep within her, still feeling fit to explode. Her fingers combed through his hair, working through the curls before they trailed down the back of his neck. “You didn’t come for me,” she murmured.

            He shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

            “Bran, we have all night. Why would you deny yourself like that?”

            Rubbing his nose against hers, he inhaled slowly. “Tonight is for you,” he managed to say.

            “Tonight is about us,” Bethany corrected and he shuddered at the love he could hear in her voice.

            “Beth,” he groaned.

            Both of her hands pressed to his shoulders and she urged him to roll over. He grunted as her legs slid from around him but he rolled, catching her hips to bring her with him. As soon as she was settled, she leaned back, bracing her hands on his chest and making him stare at her.

            Branson licked his lips, his eyes moving over her as much as he could. The paint was only dark streaks against her skin and he knew the other half of it was on his own. “By the Lady, you’re beautiful,” he whispered.

            “And you’re still hard,” she breathed, her hands trailing down to his abdomen.

            His cry got caught in his throat as she rocked on him, lifting up on her knees before coming back down on him. He squeezed her hips. “Beth, don’t, wait.”

            “No,” she said, dark hair brushing her shoulders as she shook her head. “I am done waiting, Branson Ar Sorcha. I am yours and you are mine. From this moment forward, I am not waiting anymore.”

            That wasn’t what he meant but he didn’t have the breath to correct her as she moved on him. She didn’t slow, rocking and bouncing in his lap, taking him as much as she could. He watched her desperately, his hands flexing and kneading at her supple hips. Korth take him, he wasn’t going to last! His heels dug into the bedding, pushing him up against her and a delighted laugh left her.

            She rode him without hesitation, lifting and falling and circling on him. She worked him perfectly, meeting every erratic thrust he gave. He was vaguely aware of her murmuring to him, but he couldn’t make out the words, didn’t know if she was speaking her language again, but just the gentle sounds were enough for him.

            His head tipped back into the furs as his mouth parted on a hoarse cry. His grip on her tightened, holding her still as his hips hammered up to drive him into her. He felt her fingers brush against him before she was squeezing him as she rubbed at her clit. He bucked on the mattress, lifting her off her knees for a moment before he was groaning deeply. “Beth, Beth, I can’t,” he pleaded. “I can’t risk it.”

            “I know,” she breathed, her hands moving to grip his.

            “I-“ Branson broke off with a low groan as she lifted clear off of him, shuffling back until she could take him into her mouth. He didn’t resist the wet sucking, his hips popping up to push him past soft lips as he came on her wickedly talented tongue. He shuddered under her, blindly grasping for her and trying not to pull on her hair. He was seeing stars as she sucked, humming in the back of her throat as she swallowed his seed. It only made him come harder, his cock twitching in her mouth.

            When she finally pulled back from him with a satisfied purr, he was a gasping mess. He stared at her as she crawled up his body, her hands planting on either side of his head as she smiled down at him. He tried to say something to her, tried to think of something that he could say to her, but he couldn’t do it. His voice was gone.

            She gently brushed the curls stuck to his forehead off and trailed her fingers down his nose. “You are magnificent, Branson,” she breathed. “Absolutely magnificent.”

            He didn’t think so. Getting his arms to lift was a chore, but he wound them around her back, one pressing to the base of her spine while the other laid flat between her shoulder blades. He pushed gently until she was lying against him, her breasts soft against his chest and her wet sex pressing low against his abdomen. “I love you,” he rumbled.

            She dropped a light kiss on his mouth. “And I love you,” she murmured. “I plan on loving you all through the night.”

            Branson chuckled faintly, more than agreeing with that idea.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as a birthday present for magisteramell on tumblr as it seems is custom for me because I apparently equate birthdays to writing smut? Oh well. This story takes place at the same time as The Fire Dance and yeah, it’s a rare pair and a half but that’s okay because they’re cute together and it makes sense in the story.


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